Peter recollected himself quickly. He was rapidly learning that his wife was not the meek woman that he had presumed at the start of their journey. “I suppose it was only sensible. You needed to know what you were coming to. Annie did not know about the state of the finances. She would not have understood, and I didn’t think that there was any point in scaring her. It would have made Mrs Fisher’s job far more difficult.”
“Did you agree to the marriage purely to make Annie’s position secure?” Rosalind asked. The conversation was showing her husband in a new light.
“Yes,” Peter admitted quietly. “I could not see her uprooted. She has lost both parents and brother; she could not lose everything else that was familiar to her. I have no idea what effect it would have had on her, but it was not worth the risk. I am fully aware that she has lived long beyond the doctor’s expectations; I was not going to risk something that would likely affect her health in a detrimental way if I could avoid it.”
“That is a huge sacrifice on your part,” Rosalind said. She had felt a wave of pity for the man sitting before her, but she also felt admiration for him. None of the situation he faced had been his doing, but he had married a stranger for the sake of his sister.
“It doesn’t matter. I had already decided that it was better that the line die out after the fiasco of the last few years. I will never understand how both my brother and father could live the lives they did, knowing that they were squandering everything. They were putting Annie’s future at risk,” Peter said, his tone bitter. He rubbed his hands through his hair in annoyance. He would never understand their motivation; they were fully aware of the position but had ignored it. He was ashamed that they were so selfish.
“What happened to your mother?” Rosalind asked. She was curious about the family. It was obvious that even the aristocracy had families that did not work well together, just like her own.
“She died in childbirth when Annie was five. The baby died too. I think she worried herself to death. I know she was terrified of having another child like Annie even though she loved her. It would have given my father more cause to criticise her. The boy was perfect, the nurse said, just not strong enough to survive the birth. My mother died a few hours later,” Peter said, his eyes glistening with the emotion brought on by remembering. He might be fully grown, but he still missed his mother; she had been the only one who had understood his quiet nature.
“There was no question that Annie would be sent away at that time?” Rosalind asked.
“No. Fortunately for Annie, my father had carved out a life that kept him away from Lancashire for most of the year. Life just went on as before. If he had mentioned her moving, I would have fought him. I was older then and although still a child, I was large for my age and would have been heard,” Peter explained, the set of his jaw adding to the determined tone in his voice.
Rosalind could imagine the boy being as protective of his sister, as the man obviously was. It took a strong person to sign his life away to secure someone else’s future, no matter how little he made of it. In some respects it was just the same as she had done; her sisters would likely benefit from her marriage as Annie would benefit from Peter’s. She had very little in common with her husband, but in this respect they were remarkably similar.
Peter interrupted Rosalind’s thoughts. “Thank you for dealing with Annie in the way that you did,” he said quietly. “I should have told you about her before today.”
“Yes, you should,” Rosalind acknowledged. “But there was no harm done, and I think we muddled through. She seemed happy enough.”
“You were perfect with her,” Peter acknowledged. It was true; she had handled Annie as if she had known her for years. Even when Annie had started to be difficult in going for a rest, which was vital to keep her energy levels up, Rosalind had stepped in and calmly diverted Annie from her potential tantrum. Although it was pure luck, he appeared to have secured a sensible, capable woman and one who was not afraid to challenge him if the last half hour was anything to go by.
“Having Annie around will give me something to off-set the panic I feel each time I remember I have to be responsible for running a large house,” Rosalind said with feeling, which was greeted by a wide smile from Peter. It really lit up his face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Rosalind smiled in return, “Don’t smile; you may have been born to all this, but everyone will be expecting me to show my ignorance.”
“Anyone seeing you today would be convinced of your capability,” Peter reassured her. He was happy to offer her the support she seemed to think she needed. It felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Annie was secure once more.
Chapter 5
Rosalind heard Annie before she saw her, and it made her smile. The girl did seem to bring the house to life, something that was needed. Peter had excused himself soon after their conversation ended. It seemed to Rosalind that, although they had had a civilised conversation, he was as uncomfortable with her as she was with him. Thankfully, Annie burst in some time afterwards ready to lead Rosalind on a tour of the house.
Rosalind would have normally had the tour undertaken by the housekeeper or her husband, but she was happy to follow Annie as she chattered her way through each room. Rosalind was gaining more information about the family from the young woman who obviously was not used to holding back her chatter.
The house was larger than Rosalind had lived in before. It contained a library, study, billiard room, music room, drawing room, morning room, dining room and a ballroom that took up one whole floor. They had explored each room in turn before Rosalind was able to study the portraits that hung in the long gallery as Annie told her about her ancestors.
“This is Papa,” Annie explained, stopping in front of a large portrait.
Rosalind looked at the man in the picture. He was handsome, a tall man like his son, but Peter did not resemble him. The old duke was darker than his son, and his features were sharper, giving him a hawk-like appearance. The artist had captured a hardness in his stare that made him look foreboding. “He looks a tall man,” Rosalind said, not wishing to offer false compliments but wanting to say something positive.
“Yes, he was even taller than Peter and Robert. He was frightening when he shouted,” Annie said with a shudder. “This is Robert’s picture. He was very proud to become the tenth Duke.”
Annie guided Rosalind to the next portrait hung on the wall. The son looked very much like the father, but his features were softer, making him look less foreboding. “He was a handsome man,” Rosalind said truthfully.
“Yes he was,” Annie agreed. “He liked parties and ladies. Oops,” Annie said, covering her mouth, her eyes opening wider in alarm. “Mrs Fisher says that I must be careful not to say anything that would make you dislike us.”
“Don’t worry,” Rosalind reassured her. “You can say anything you wish to me; I promise I will not dislike you for it.”
“Oh good! I don’t like being careful; it makes my head hurt,” Annie said seriously.
Rosalind could not help laughing at the young girl, and she was a young girl in every sense of the word. “It would make mine hurt too. Please continue.”
Annie looked at the portrait of her dead brother. “I didn’t like Papa,” she said seriously. “He frightened me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not make him happy; I’m very clumsy you see.”
Rosalind’s heart went out to her new sister; the look of fear on her face was clear. “I’m sure you tried your best.”
“I did,” Annie responded with a smile, but it soon faded. “I don’t really remember Mama, but Peter says that she loved me very much.”
“He told me that too,” Rosalind reassured her.
“Papa didn’t, so when he was alive, I stayed upstairs a lot with Mrs Fisher,” she explained. “Peter visited with me whenever he could. He would send Mrs Fisher away, and we would be together. We played games, and he read me stories. I love Peter. When Papa died, Robert all
owed me to come downstairs when he was away from home, so I liked Robert more than I liked Papa.”
Rosalind shook her head. It seemed like Annie had been a virtual prisoner before her father died. It was cruel to have restricted her so. Robert had hardly been better, although at least she had a little more freedom. “You must miss them,” she said, more automatically than with any great conviction.
“Not really,” Annie replied in what Rosalind was quickly realising was her usual innocently truthful way. “I missed Pete when he lived at his farm. When Papa died and Peter came home, I was very happy.”
“So, Peter is the eleventh Duke,” Rosalind said. “Where is his portrait?” she asked. She was curious to look at her husband without him catching her staring. It unsettled her a little to realise that she wanted to look at him; he stirred interest in her and was the most handsome of his three relatives by far, in her opinion at least.
“He’s not had a portrait done. I heard him saying to his friend that it was a complete waste of money because he was going to be the last Duke anyway,” Annie explained.
“Oh,” Rosalind did not know what else to reply. It was obvious that Peter was determined to let the line die out as he had said. It was his business, but she could not shake off the feeling of disappointment at there not being a portrait of him in the gallery. “Annie, is there a picture of your mother?” Rosalind asked eventually.
“Oh yes, but that is in the library,” Annie explained. “Peter had it moved from the gallery. The library is our favourite room, and he wanted to be able to see her whenever he was reading there.”
Annie led the way to the room. The portrait took central position, hanging over the grey marble mantelpiece. Rosalind stood before the picture, immediately seeing the familial resemblance between mother and second son. The eyes, mouth and hair colour were the same. The portrait was obviously done when their mother was younger, perhaps newly married; she had the bloom of youth in her cheeks. She was not smiling, but she looked happy.
“She was beautiful,” Rosalind said honestly.
“Yes, Robert said once that Peter was more like Mama in his ways. He was teasing Peter I think, but Peter was unhappy with Robert,” Annie responded.
“Why was Peter unhappy?” Rosalind asked, curious.
“Robert wouldn’t stop bringing ladies to the house,” Annie explained with a frown, trying to remember the conversation. “Peter said it wasn’t becoming of a Duke. Robert asked me how he would ever find a wife if Peter would not let him bring ladies home.”
“What did Peter say?” Rosalind asked.
“He said Robert shouldn’t be spending money on those ladies, something about it adding to their debt. I wonder what debt is; it must be big, because Robert brought many ladies,” Annie said. “Peter asked me to leave; he wanted to speak to Robert alone. They often spoke alone, but I could still hear their voices. Robert would usually start off by laughing at Peter, but then he would shout at him before storming out of the house. I would hide; I don’t like shouting. Mrs Fisher would try and stop me listening, but I wanted to be close to Peter. I don’t like it when Peter is sad.”
Rosalind had gained so much knowledge from Annie that she felt a little cruel at questioning such an innocent. It did create a picture that she had not expected when she first learned about the Duke of Sudworth. Peter was obviously different from his brother and father, and it gave weight to some of the things he had said. Her time spent with Annie generated more sympathy for Peter’s situation than she had felt so far.
The pair returned to the drawing room where Rosalind ordered refreshments. She asked that Mrs Fisher joined them. She was aware that she had only just met Annie and thought it wise to allow the companion to monitor her charge.
Rosalind was impressed at the kindness but firmness that Mrs Fisher used to deal with Annie. It was clear that the woman was, in many ways, a mother to her new sister. When it was obvious that Annie was tiring, the pair eventually left Rosalind alone.
For the first time since arriving in the house, Rosalind was alone with her thoughts. She walked over to the window and sat in the window seat. She tucked her feet under her chin, wrapping her shawl around her and looked through the glass. It was a perfect position to sit and look out over the large garden area with its gravel pathways snaking between box-hedge flower beds. In the distance, the countryside became more rugged, but the scene before her was of order and symmetry. The sky was darkening, but there was enough light to make out the elegance of the gardens.
So the Duke of Sudworth had been forced into this situation as she had, she mused. She appreciated the difficulties that he must have felt in turning his back on the life he had carved out for himself. Giving up the life she had enjoyed had been hard enough, but her sacrifice was nothing in comparison to his. It must have been extremely difficult to sell a successful farm and try and save a bankrupt family home. The fact that he was willing to ensure Annie’s future showed to what lengths he was prepared to go to protect her.
Rosalind was interrupted from her thoughts by the return of her husband. She offered him tea, which he accepted, and she returned to her chair in the main part of the room.
“The view is lovely from this side of the house,” Peter said, nodding his head towards the window. He had watched her for a second or two before she noticed his entrance. The darkened sky had made her skin seem ethereal. Her huddled state had made her seem smaller, as if she were trying to disappear into the fabric of the building. He was reminded again of how pretty she was. He had moved into the room once she turned towards him, her thoughtful expression being replaced with one that looked as if she was uncomfortable in his company.
“Yes, perhaps tomorrow I will be able to explore the grounds a little,” Rosalind responded.
“I expect morning calls will be particularly busy tomorrow now the news will have spread that the new Duchess is in residence,” Peter said, watching in amusement as a look of horror passed across Rosalind’s face.
“I’d hoped to hide for a few days at least,” Rosalind admitted.
Peter laughed, “I’m afraid there was never any chance of that. The gossips will have been eagerly waiting for your arrival since I wrote with our journey details.”
“Could you not have lied?” Rosalind responded, with an overacted groan. “You had better tell me about the families in the area.”
Peter smiled, “To make up for the trial of meeting the neighbours shall we take the phaeton out for the afternoon? I can show you all the outlying areas.”
“That’s sounds lovely,” Rosalind replied and sat listening quietly as her husband went on to describe the local families of note in the area.
Chapter 6
Rosalind prepared carefully for the morning calls. Although it would not be as trying as receiving visitors in London, there were still enough families in the vicinity to make Rosalind uneasy about the day ahead. She dressed carefully, not wanting to appear the misfit that she was. The dress she wore oozed expense. It was made of fine rose silk; the embellishments were created by a deeper rose material being visible in the slashes on the sleeves and the front skirt having the deeper material half covered by the lighter rose, which moved as Rosalind walked. Silk might be considered an extravagant material for a day dress, but Rosalind consoled herself with her indulgence by reminding herself that she was a Duchess and would be expected to lead the fashions in the area. For the first time, she thanked her mother for being obsessed with the latest trends; it would hold her in good stead over the coming months.
Peter had explained the previous evening that Annie was never involved in morning visits; strangers usually made her feel uncomfortable. Rosalind felt selfish, but she would miss the easy chatter of the girl during an uncomfortable morning.
Peter had been correct in his guess that the visits would be busy. It seemed as if every family within a reasonable travelling distance had come to pay their respects. Rosalind was introduced to one set of females after another, all k
een to see the new Duchess.
Rosalind managed to survive without many feelings of mortification. She was an intelligent young woman so, although out of her normal setting, could make conversation with most people. She picked out people who obviously thought little of her even before they made her acquaintance, but she was able to disregard them. She had expected more people to have been overtly critical about her background, but it seemed that the rank that she held demanded some respect. Perhaps being a Duchess was not so bad after all, she thought, amused. In reality she would have little time to worry about the wider area’s approval while she was learning about her own role.
Visiting hours were coming to an end when two ladies were announced, a Miss Frances Latimer and Lady Joan Kettering. Within a few minutes, Rosalind realised that Lady Joan was one of the locals who was out to make her feel uncomfortable. She had openly looked down on her since she had walked through the door.
Both ladies were dressed in the height of fashion but, although Miss Latimer had a pleasing face, Lady Joan was completely different. She was tall, but her willowy frame made her seem taller. Her features, although not unpleasant, were sharp and seemed to enhance the surly expression on her face. Her lips could not have been more pinched if she tried. They all sat, exchanging the usual pleasantries while assessing each other. Lady Joan guided the talk in a direction that was obvious to them all that she wanted to steer the conversation since her arrival.
“So, your father is in trade?” Lady Joan asked, the word sounding as if it actually made her feel ill.
“That is correct,” Rosalind replied. She would offer no more; she was not prepared to start defending herself in her own house.
Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1) Page 4
